There’s a whole bunch of things I need right now—to feel at home in this big, lonely city. To stop working my ass off. To find myself a nice, normal guy. One thing I sure as hell don’t need is Adler Montgomery crashing into my world and telling me what I need.

Cock-sure, tattooed, moneyed, too sexy for his own good. Not my type, at all. And yet…

When his hand tightens in my hair, suddenly, all I need is him.

He opens my eyes to a whole new world, possesses me in every possible way, sets me on fire with his sweet, filthy words. And then he pushes me away. I know I should run, keep my heart safe, but that turns out to be the hardest thing of all.

Adler

She thought I was giving her a line. And that’s probably for the best, because the truth is dangerous. No-one’s eyes have ever looked so vulnerable, made me want to break all my rules. They make me chase her when I know I shouldn’t. They make me cruel; they make me soft. But more than that, they make me feel. And I don’t like that.

I tell myself she’s only a sub, that I’m helping her to discover her dark side. But the more I listen to her smart, feisty voice and the more I see she doesn’t take any crap from anyone, the deeper I fall. I’ve never met anyone like Reagan Lockhart before, but letting her in could mean ruin for both of us.
—

“Exquisitely made,” he says. I spin around and receive my second jolt of the evening. I’m face to face with a tall, broad-shouldered man…He has golden-brown hair, cut short at the sides, with a long-top pushed back in a messy quiff, dark, straight brows, and dark scruff covering a firm jaw. His lips are full, and his eyes are soulful, golden-brown, and almost puppyish. In short, he looks like he just walked out of a fashion shoot in Brooklyn, or some equally edgy neighborhood. I’m holding the crop in both hands, but he’s not looking at it—he’s running his eyes all over my body without a hint of shame.

“Is it?” I say, as neutrally as I can.

He nods. “Very. But the real beauty is in its execution. I’d be happy to show you how it works.” There’s a flicker of heat between my thighs.

“I—I’m not into this stuff.” One of those straight, thick eyebrows lifts a smidgen in tandem with a corner of his mouth.

“Sex? You’re not into sex?”

“I mean…” I gesture at the row of whips hanging on hooks along the stall front. “This. Bondage.”

The quirk in his lips becomes a full-on smirk. “Bondage is something a little different. But it could certainly be a precursor to me using a whip on you.”

“Whatever. It’s not my thing. None of it.”

He leans in, using his height advantage. “I think it is.” His voice has become a gravelly purr, like the sound a predatory animal makes when it has its prey in its sights. And he’s so close that I can smell him—a rich, spicy scent tempered with expensive cologne. “I can see it in your eyes.”